Chapter 7: Gabbro
"Incredible, isn't it?" Riebeck sounds happier than they've been for some time. Their voice echoes around what is unmistakably a workshop, a spacious hall relatively untouched by the encroaching plant life. Gabbro would have to agree. It's not as pretty as the upper floors, but no other room they've explored so far has looked so… lived in.
"Sure is," Gabbro says slowly, taking in their surroundings. Low benches lie in semi-circular formation around a deep well in the center of the room. Whatever that hollow space might have contained is long gone; now only dangling cables remain, furred with dust. Cables the width of Gabbro's thigh snake their way across the floor. And scattered across every conceivable surface are tools, some achingly similar to Hearthian ones, others with a purpose Gabbro can only guess at. It's a far cry from Slate's cramped, hazard-filled shed. The Hearthian engineer would probably take one look at this place and keel over.
Feldspar seems… less enthusiastic. "Yeah, it's pretty great and all, but have you noticed something?" When their question yields no response, they roll all four of their eyes. "Bones, genius! I'm talking about bones!"
"Of course!" Riebeck turns a small circle, as if a pile of undiscovered skeletons might make themselves apparent. "There's no one here. I haven't seen a single body. Have you?" That last part is aimed at Gabbro, who, now they consider it, realizes the lovely towers and corridors they've seen thus far have shown no sign of any remains whatsoever.
"Huh, you're right. And for an abandoned place, it looks untouched, if you don't count the plants taking over. It's as if the people who lived here just laid down their tools and left."
"Did something happen? Or did they find a way to leave?" Riebeck bounces gently on the balls of their feet, their deep voice rising to fill the space around them. "What if they built spaceships? They could be out there in the solar system right now!"
"Okay bud," Gabbro says with a laugh. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."
Riebeck wilts. "You're right. There could be another explanation for why we haven't seen any bodies. We should think scientifically. Maybe they didn't have skeletons at all!"
Gabbro is trying not to think too hard about the kind of amorphous, un-skeletonized blob Riebeck might be describing, when there's a hiss of static as their signalscopes come to life. Chert's voice sounds strangely distorted, coming through three different receivers.
"Uh, friends? You should come and take a look at this."
"Chert? What is it? Where are you?" Gabbro feels a little pang of guilt - in all the excitement of discovering the workshop, they'd forgotten to check in with their friend. Not that they were more than a signalscope message away, but still. After their experience on Little Shade, they'd made a private promise to be more careful.
"Hmm, I think… really, it's better if you see for yourself. I'm somewhere in the lower levels. Follow the black inlays on the walls. Each colour leads to a different part of the building. At least, I'm fairly certain."
In the background, the others exchange a glance. "Did you know that?" Riebeck whispers. Feldspar shrugs.
"Alright." Gabbro decides. "Stay put. We're coming to find you."
"Hold up." Feldspar grabs their arm. Gabbro opens their mouth to protest, but they're already talking over them. "Chert, how long have we been here?"
"What?"
"Simple question, friend. How long have we been on this planet?"
"Stop teasing me, Feldspar," says Chert crossly. "It's been a few hours at the most. Now are you coming down here or not?"
Feldspar makes a strange little noise in the back of their throat. But they release the other Hearthian when they jerk out of their grasp.
Gabbro slaps a hand over their transmitter so Chert won't hear. "You gonna tell me what that was all about?" Annoyingly, Feldspar is already turning away.
"Just had a thought. Forget it." They head for the door, barely pausing to see if the others follow. Gabbro stares at their retreating back, a gnawing feeling growing in the pit of their stomach.
Riebeck shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other and softly clears their throat. "Um… should we follow them? I'm starting to think it would be better not to get separated." Given the unnamable feeling prickling down Gabbro's spine, they're inclined to agree. Suddenly the atmosphere in the workshop is filled less by the promise of discovery, but the weight of… well, secrets.
"Yeah," they say, shaking off the feeling and forcing a smile. They motion for Riebeck to follow them. "Let's stick together."
·◊◊◊·
Indeed, the black inlays on the walls lead deeper into the maze of the building. The explorers descend a series of hexagonal shafts, making their way through increasingly utilitarian corridors. It wouldn't take much to get turned around in a place like this. Gabbro keeps one pair of eyes fixed firmly on the walls, careful not to lose the trail. Still, when they finally drop through a shaft and find Chert standing in a hallway lit only by the pale light of their Little Scout, their friend throws their hands up in exasperation.
"Oh, good, I was starting to worry I'd have to come and find you." Despite their terse words, they offer Gabbro a fleeting smile.
"So, what's this thing you wanted us to see?" If Feldspar has any intention of asking more bizarre questions, they don't show it. Chert detaches their Little Scout from the wall and holds it up as if it's a lantern.
"It's not far. Come with me."
The astronauts' shadows swell over the walls as they follow Chert further down the hallway. A strange smell tinges the stale air, not woodsy like the upper ruins, but sharp and acrid. It thickens as, up ahead, a knotted shape emerges out of the darkness, blocking the way.
Roots. Tree roots, easily as thick as the saplings one might find on Timber Hearth, growing straight through the walls and ceiling. They're gnarled and twisted, and the ground is scattered with broken bits of stone.
"Wow!" Riebeck is already bending to prod at them experimentally. "I guess we're underground. The soil outside must be completely full of these roots."
Gabbro nudges a fallen chunk of debris with their toe - it's hardly a pebble. Hardly surprising, though. Given enough time, plants can reduce anything to rubble. Feldspar remains a few paces back, their arms folded across their chest.
"I don't like 'em. Reminds me of Dark Bramble." Riebeck swallows hard and withdraws their hand.
Chert ignores this, apparently unconcerned by the comparison. They're pressed up against a gap amongst the tangle, squinting into the darkness beyond. "Weird plants aside, that's not why I called you down here." They step away, pointing, and Gabbro flicks on their torch and shines it through the gap. The beam catches on a wall of tessellating hexagons, its surface etched with intricate diagrams of branching lines and dots.
"Don't they resemble constellations?" Chert says, excitement growing. "I found a map earlier, of sorts. The people who built this place knew about the other planets in this solar system. What if they studied the stars too?"
Gabbro considers this. "They sound like your kind of people."
Chert waves them off with a snort. "Very funny. If my suspicions are correct, those diagrams could give us a clue as to where they went."
"Aha!" Riebeck perks up visibly. "So you agree with my theory!"
"Well, I'll admit it's more wishful thinking than theory, but yes," admits Chert. "But we won't learn anything by standing around. We need to get through here."
"On it." Feldspar, to Gabbro's mounting alarm, is already unstrapping their jetpack. "What?" They demand, seeing the looks the others are giving them. "It worked on Little Shade!"
"But you'll kill the tree!" Riebeck protests, shifting themself protectively between Feldspar and the woody tangle.
"Who cares? This planet's covered in 'em!"
"We're in an enclosed space, Feldspar," Chert says sternly. "Setting fire to things is a bad idea, and frankly I'm concerned that I even have to remind you of that."
"C'mon," Feldspar turns to Gabbro with a plaintive look. "Help me out here."
"I think you're outnumbered, buddy."
"Pfft. Spoilsport."
·◊◊◊·
It takes all four Hearthians' strength - and a great deal of grumbling from Feldspar - to drag the roots aside. They're strangely firm, despite their brittle appearance. But eventually their efforts yield a gap large enough even for Riebeck to squeeze through, if they crawl on their belly. Sap-like fluid drips to the broken floor where the Hearthians had to be rough with them. It's on their suits too, sticky patches already picking up grime. It'll be a nightmare to clean off later, especially with the limited gear they've brought.
But that's a problem for Future Gabbro. Right-Now Gabbro is more concerned with keeping their torch aimed at Chert's feet so the smaller Hearthian doesn't trip on the uneven floor. Their gaze is fixed squarely on that odd wall, and Gabbro knows from experience that it's going to be impossible to tear them away from it until it yields its mysteries. Which is unfortunate, because that acrid smell is much stronger here, and it leaves an oily taste on Gabbro's tongue that reminds them of the time Porphy set a pot on the fire and forgot about it. Chert doesn't comment on it, though, only stands at the base of the wall, hands on their hips, muttering to themself.
Behind them, Riebeck hums softly, rubbing their chin. "You know, I'm no expert, but those don't look much like constellations to me."
"You'd be right." Chert sets their Little Scout on the ground and peers closely at the lowest diagram, roughly at their eye level. "Look, these points are too evenly spaced. Unless it's a stylistic choice, I suppose, but then why bother identifying constellations at all?"
"Perhaps it's a written language!" Riebeck's face lights up. They step forward and trace the etchings with a gloved finger, as if they could glean its secrets that way. "If only Hal were with us! Imagine what we could-" they break off with a gasp as the wall collapses in on itself with an odd scraping noise. The panels fold away and retreat into the walls, until only a gaping doorway remains. The astronauts stumble back as a wave of foul-smelling air washes over them.
"Phwoar!" Feldspar buries their face in their elbow. "It burns!" A chorus of shrill peeps fills the hallway as their suits' danger sensors go off.
"Quick! Helmets on, everyone!" There's an explosion of fumbling as Gabbro and the others quickly seal themselves back into their suits. Their eyes are stinging. Through their signalscope they can hear Chert coughing. It takes a moment for their suit to flush the tainted air and replace it with oxygen from their tank, but thankfully, the sensor alarms finally fall quiet.
"I'm sorry!" Riebeck is saying, over and over, hands clasped to their faceplate. "I'm sorry! I didn't know that would happen!"
"It's okay. None of us did." Chert pats their knee, then coughs again and shudders. "Oh, Hearth. I don't know if I'll ever be able to smell anything again."
Feldspar leans through the newly-discovered doorway and flicks on their torch. Beyond lies a natural cavern, thick with stalagmites, tangles of strangely pale roots, and, as far as their small light can make out, a great oily lake of… something.
"Huh. On the bright side, you figured out how alien doors work." They turn back to Riebeck, the dim light glinting off their helmet. "Congratulations, I guess." Before anyone can caution them against it, they step into the cave.
If there's one constant in the universe, it's not gravity or the speed of light, but Feldspar's propensity for making bad decisions. Looking at the flashing warnings popping up on their suit's HUD, Gabbro is pretty sure this is one of those times. But the only alternative is to let them walk around in a toxic cave unsupervised, and so they sigh and follow.
Sure enough, the first thing they see is Feldspar pick up a loose stone and toss it into the lake. The surface breaks with not a splash but a gloop. Or, at least, that's how Gabbro imagines it sounds, as the stone slips beneath its viscous surface with distressing slowness.
Riebeck and Chert's torchlight sweeps the cavern, catching on the clusters of roots that cling to the walls. They're slimy, bark peeling away in globs, the fleshy parts riddled with dark veins. Gabbro has never seen anything like it. Sure, this is an alien planet, after all, but the way they're trailing in the foul lake doesn't look healthy.
"They look… diseased," says Chert. "It's horrible. Why would the people who built such a beautiful place create something so… awful?"
"Unless they didn't. Could be a natural phenomenon," Riebeck says doubtfully.
"Could have been an accident," Gabbro muses. "An experiment gone wrong? Who knows what these folks were up to."
"True. Or maybe they just don't burn their waste the way we do."
Feldspar makes a noise of disgust. "Oh, great, so we're standing next to a lake of alien-"
"Yes, thank you Feldspar," Chert interrupts testily. "In any case, my suit doesn't recognise any of the chemical compounds it's picking up in the air, so I think it's safe to say it's not organic. I should take some samples of these plants, though." They lift a hand to touch a low-hanging root. "Maybe if I-"
The root shoots sharply upwards, out of their reach, and they flinch away, gasping. "Stars! They move!"
As if in answer, the cavern floor begins to vibrate beneath Gabbro's feet. Judging by the way the others freeze, they feel it too. Then roots burst through the floor, flinging Chert aside with a pained yelp. Stone shudders and crumbles under sheer brute force. Feldspar tackles Riebeck out of the way of a stalagmite that shatters on the floor where they'd just been standing. And then everyone is shouting at once, the signalscope feed devolving into a mess of garbled commands and static.
But Gabbro isn't listening - before they even realize it they're running. Running for Chert, who has curled themself into a tight ball as more roots push their way through the ceiling, sending debris raining down on them. Gabbro stumbles on the undulating floor. They're mere feet away, but it might as well be miles. Then they're upon them, grabbing Chert's suit and snatching them up before they can be engulfed. Or at least, they try. Chert's feet are trapped against the floor by a fleshy mass of smaller roots. No matter how much they kick at them, they hold fast.
"Jetpack!" gasps Gabbro, straining against their pull. "Use your jetpack!"
Chert fumbles for their thruster, and an agonizing moment later, their jetpack bursts to life. Roots shrivel and shrink in the flames. Gabbro and Chert shoot backwards, and even as Gabbro curls themself around their smaller friend, they land with a bone-jarring thump and the scrape of metal on rock. There's no time to worry about the damage the impact might have done to their oxygen tank. They scramble to their feet and grab Chert's hand, pulling them along in their wake.
The others are already at the door, Feldspar wrestling with a questing root as it tries to block the way, Riebeck reaching out as if they can pull their friends out of danger by sheer force of will.
"Go, go!" Feldspar's arms tremble with the strain of holding back the root's growth, but already there are more bursting from the floor. "I'm right behind you!"
They don't need to tell Gabbro twice; pulling Chert in one hand and ushering Riebeck along with the other, they shove them both towards the wall of roots that cross the hallway. These ones are thankfully inert, though the hall shudders ominously, chips of stone and dust pattering against their helmet. Chert disappears through the hole first, and Gabbro gives Riebeck a shove.
"Your turn."
"But what about-"
"Move it, Riebeck!" Gabbro has never yelled at anyone in their life, let alone poor Riebeck. But something in their voice must galvanize their friend, because they stop arguing and drop to the ground, pulling themself into the gap.
The floor beneath Gabbro's boots cracks open. They glance over their shoulder, but to their horror, there's no Feldspar - only a hall thick with dust and a doorway filled with pale roots.
"Oh, stars." Their hearts hammering, they throw themself back towards the door and try to yank the roots apart, to make a gap that Feldspar can squeeze through, but they've woven together, an impossibly solid mass. "Feldspar! Feldspar, can you hear me?"
"Gah!" The whoosh of a jetpack makes the signalscope crackle. "What are you doing? Get out of there! I'll find another way out!"
"Are you crazy? The whole place could collapse!"
Their only reply is more static. The cracks in the floor widen, and then the ground rolls, sending Gabbro stumbling helplessly backwards. They hit the knotted tangle, hard enough that they feel something on their suit give way. And already that awful chemical stink seeps into their helmet. Their suit's alarm shrieks in their ears, drowning out Riebeck and Chert's panicked voices filling the signalscope feed.
"No," they croak, reaching for their oxygen line, as if they can stop the tainted air from getting in. It's futile, of course it is - they must have dislodged something when they fell on their tank.
But they can't leave Feldspar here. They can't.
And yet.
They can't stay, either.
Eyes streaming, and not just from the acrid air, they drop to their knees and blindly crawl through the gap, into Riebeck and Chert's waiting arms.